Quiver
by WielderofBlade
Summary: "You and I both have a different feeling for that woman," he said. "Who are you?" He asks, lowering his bow. The man doesn't hesitate to answer. "I'm you." When a Clint from the future helps Clint from the past from making an important decision, Clint becomes reliant on himself to make every choice. (Clint/Natasha)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So I thought of this great idea in the middle of writing my other story, Behind Echoes. Lol I know I should be working on it right now, but I wanted to get all my information in one place. I probably wont continue this story unless it gets reviews. **

**So, here's Chapter 1 of Quiver!**

Chapter 1

One target.

Obviously, he was an assassin. Taking out the target was all he needed to do.

But there were loads of reasons of why he couldn't end her life. After weeks of tracking the red-haired menace, he found something so familiar that even Fury wouldn't have been able to see.

The woman, just a few buildings away, looked so hopeless, in the beautiful blue dress of hers dancing to some music she played. She got all the moves so right, lowering herself daintily and spinning so perfectly.

Slowly, lowering the bow down to his chest, Clint examined the red-haired woman.

She was rather beautiful, perfect skin and the perfect kind of body. She was young, as well, not too much younger than Clint himself.

In fact, she was gorgeous.

Shaking his head vigorously, Clint stretched out the arrow once more. He shouldn't be checking out his targets. They were his targets for Pete's sake!

Come on, he could do it. It could happen. All he needed to do now was-

"You and I both have a different feeling for that woman," he heard a voice behind him. Startled, Clint turned around, pointing an arrow at...

...himself?

No, that was wrong. It was most likely an illusion of some sort. He strained his eyes at the stranger and searched him, to only find a bow and empty quiver on him. He wore a cloak, his hood draped down behind his shoulders. Much to his dismay, he looked like an older version of himself.

"Who are you?" He asked the man, who was still standing wide opened.

The man didn't hesitate to answer.

"I am you."

"That's impossible," he said, licking his lips and lowering the bow once more.

"I thought so too, at once, but I guess not. Now, I'm not here to talk about myself. I'm here to speak about her," he said, pointing at the woman. Clint's gaze hovered to her once more, his eyes softening at the sight of her.

"I see you've already taken the idea of not ending her life?" The man asked him. Clint didn't answer.

"She doesn't deserve to die," the man continued on, knowing of his own stubbornness.

It was in fact, himself that Clint was facing. He didn't know it at then. Or rather, didn't want to believe it. But after a couple of more incidents Clint was sure he could believe almost anything.

Clint didn't reply. He had no idea who this man was, and he didn't want him to be involved.

"She's not doing this at her own will."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Clint took the man by surprise, that which he did not know why. It was a simple question, really. But perhaps the man was startled because he didn't remember himself asking that question.

Remembering carefulness, the man mentally shook his head and returned to his calm, normal facial expression. Whatever the matter, he continued on.

"Because... You need to know. Although, even if I don't inform you of her current conditions I know you won't kill her."

"Why are you so sure of that?"

"Because I know you," the man simply replied. The woman, The Black Widow, finished her song and her move. She carefully shut the stereo off, sitting down next to it for a couple of minutes.

Clint faced her fully once more, having nothing to do but look at her hopelessly.

"What am I supposed to do?" Clint whispered, gulping as he saw her, a human, a young girl, simply sit next to her stereo and stare at it. Like it was the only thing that helped her blow off all the stress in the world. She looked so innocent, she looked nothing like a killer.

"Offer her a job," he heard a whisper behind him.

After watching her leave the room with her ballet shoes in her hands, Clint turned around, only to see the previous man gone.

Who was that?

Well, it certainly didn't matter as much then, because The Black Widow started to exited the building.

Clint rolled his shoulders, delighted when he heard a crack. It disgusted most people, but it really did get him in the zone. Even though that was not what he needed then.

Readying his bow, Clint took an arrow out of his quiver and pointed it at her, the stretch of the bow catching the red haired woman's attention.

"I've seen you around," she said, looking up to him. Her face was calm, collective.

"You're here to kill me. It's fine, you can do it i have nothing to live for."

'Offer her a job'.

"I'm not here to kill you."

'She doesn't deserve to die'.

"I don't need your pity. I'd rather die."

Damn, she was a bit stubborn. Clint decided to ignore the comment.

"I'm here to offer you a job," Said Clint, and at this point the arrow was back in his quiver and the bow placed down on the ground, showing her that he wouldn't make a move.

Slightly interested, The Black Widow lowered the stereo and sat down on the grassy ground, still looking up to the building to where the Hawk was perched.

"I've gotten a lot of red in my ledger. There's no way a job like your's could help me wipe it out," she said.

Clint hesitated this time. His pause wasn't for long though, for he replied, "...It may."

Clint's eyes didn't hold certainty. No, that's not what Natasha - Natalie, at the time - saw. What she saw in his eyes were hope.

"May I ask why you would need me to do this job?" She asked, challenging him a bit.

"It's not a one-way job, Romanov. It is an all-time job, and it will free you from the Red Room."

Now her full attention was on The Hawk. If it was one thing she wanted dearly, it was to escape the Red Room.

"May I ask what kind if job it is?"

"Certainly..."


	2. Chapter 2

**I didn't think I would write this anymore, but I guess this one idea for the next chapter came to me. I wasn't actually planning to write this story, but I kind of enjoy it, so I might be adding more chapters. Thank you all that faved and followed, and please, please, review. I won't writing this story unless it gets reviews!**

The next time Clint saw himself, he thought he was hallucinating. He didn't realize that this man was the same man that told him not to kill The Black Widow.

Although, over the years, Clint had thought about it.

In fact, he made up his mind that he was certainly hallucinating, and he was only speaking to himself in his mind, that the man that Clint saw was just a fragment of imagination. That's why he left out the part of seeing himself out of the report many years ago.

He felt like if he did add it, he would only seem insane.

He wasn't intending to leave his job anytime soon.

It had been nine years ever since he had made the decision of not killing the Russian Assassin known as 'The Black Widow'. Nine years and that was one of the few things he's never regretted.

Clint blew a last punch on the punching bag, panting and making his way over to the table where he left his towel. Looking up to check the time, he saw it was 3:25 AM.

It happened to him many times, where he'd be an insomniac for a week or two. Eventually, he'd be able to catch some sleep, and the insomnia wouldn't come back until months later.

After wiping the sweat off of his forehead, Clint stretched his arm out, starting to make his way towards the exit when he felt something.

Clint immediately turned around to see no one. He could've swore that he saw...

Shaking his head, he turned back around and made his way toward the exit once more. If it was one thing he knew, not many people could sneak up on him. But, when he reached to the door, he felt the same feeling once more. Annoyed, Clint turned around and reached for his non-existent quiver behind him, cursing to himself. It was a bad habit, he always looked like a fool when he did that.

Still, no one was there. blinking a couple of times and letting out a deep breath, Clint exited the training room and made his way to his own room, striping his clothes off and jumping into the shower.

The warm water rushed down to his face, soothing Clint. It felt so good, like every single problem in his life was gone, and if they did come back, he could just wash them away.

After a long while, he combed his hand through his hair. He could feel a couple of bruises stinging his forehead, but he ignored it. The water sliding down his muscles reminded him how long he was standing in the shower.

A couple of more minutes past and Clint was in a tank top and sweatpants, making his way over to the bed. But, before he could take a giant leap and try to snooze off, he realized someone was in his bed.

"Dude, what the fuck?!" he said, startled as he jumped back.

The person shook awake, jumping out of the bed and looking up to Clint. It didn't take him any seconds to realize that he was in his own bed... or if that made sense.

"Dude, what the fuck...?" He repeated, not ripping his gaze away to himself...or, to his future self.

"Where is she?" Future Clint demanded, walking up closer to Clint, "Where's Natasha?"

Still bewildered, Clint squinted at his future self.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asked.

"I don't think that's a hard question to answer. Now, where is she?" He replied.

Clint closed his eyes and shook his head. This couldn't' be happening. He looked up again, flinching when he saw his future self once more.

"What the hell...?"

"Look, Clint, I don't have time for this. What year is it?" The future self demanded once more. Clint got a bit angry, then, but decided to tell him.

"It's 2012. Now, mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" Clint replied to himself. But, when he said the date, Future Clint's eyes widened, and he frowned.

"2012..." He muttered, "I should've known."

"Should've known what?" Clint said a bit coldly, looking at himself in pity.

"You're in for a big mission, nothing you've ever trained for..." He paused, " Try your best not to get compromised?" Future Clint looked up to himself in worry. But, Clint just looked at himself in confusion.

"Can you tell me what the flipping fuck is going on?"

Future Clint shook his head, "I can't. It might mess up the time stream...Thor told me not to..." He said, mumbling the last part.

"Thor?"

"Nothing, nevermind that. Just... Don't let Natasha go, okay? Not ever." With that, with just a blink of an eye, Future Clint disappeared.

Clint blinked a couple of times, shaking his head and looking again. He could've swore he that was real.

"What the fuck is going on in my head?" He muttered to himself, jumping into the bed and lying his head down. Now, he knew he would never get some sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Will you still love me_****  
****_When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_****  
****_Will you still love me_****  
****_When I got nothing but my aching soul?_****  
****_I know you will, I know you will_****  
****_I know that you will_**_  
_**- Lana Del Ray, Young and Beautiful**

**I do not own Avengers. **

* * *

**Chapter 3**

'Damn the idiot,' She thought to herself. 'He just had to get compromised, didn't he?'

Natasha let out a huff, dodging a bullet from the air. The Helicarrier was under attack, and she just had gotten back from escaping the grasps of the Hulk. A merry fellow, he was.

After Barton, the idiot, shot a couple of arrows inside the Helicarrier, Fury was done. Of course, when he asked if anyone 'copied' Natasha knew she would be the only one to reply to him. No one knew Hawkeye's fighting style better than her, and certainly no one was going to volunteer to go up against a master assassin.

How was she supposed to get him back? Did she have to get Loki's staff first? Could she get Loki?  
Natasha shook her head. Even she knew that she couldn't take him on single-handedly.

'Well,' she thought, 'The least I can do is get him, trap him and capture him.' Wanting to waste no time, Natasha took out her gun.

"It's the head," came a voice from behind.

Thankfully, she had already had out her gun, Natasha swirled around with her gun automatically pointed up to see Clint, his hands raised.

She wasn't surprised. Not until she got a couple of seconds to scan him.

Something was off. She immediately noticed something was terribly wrong. If it was one person that knew Clint Barton, it was Natasha. This was definitely a different Clint. He looked at her differently, he stood differently, he even raised his hands differently.

"You're not him, are you?" She asked, slowly lowering the gun next to her.

Clint shook his head.

"At least, not from this time," he said.

Confused, Natasha stepped closer to him, and from that he backed away quickly. This just made her even more curious.

"Nat, I'm not actually here. If you touch me, you'll come back to my time, and it'll be hard to get you back," he said. The future Clint did wish that he could touch her, hug her, be with her, but he couldn't. This time, it wasn't because of the boundaries that they made, it was the boundaries between worlds.

Even though he wanted all of that, before it was too late, he knew he couldn't. The least he could do was get Natasha back. At least, before she...

Clint looked down and shrugged the thought away, remembering the actual reason why he was here. I mean, it wasn't everyday that Clint was facing Natasha from the past, Natasha that didn't know the truth in the year 2012.

He remembered what Thor told him.

* * *

_"...You mustn't see Lady Natasha in the past. This will only increase your longing for her. You understand me, don't you?" Thor said, shaking Clint._

Clint, with his eyes red and puffy from sobbing, only nodded, clutching on the piece of jewelry that Thor had given him. Looking down to it, he felt as if his whole life depended on the locket, his whole world.

Natasha was his world. She was definitely worth it. 

_"I-I understand..." He said, feeling like a fool when he felt a tear roll down his cheek. It was all going to be over, all of it, after he just opened the locket._

He was going to travel to the past, he was going to fix it all.

"Then you may proceed," Thor said, letting go of his shoulders and stepping back. Clint raised his head and saw all the Avengers, all except one, standing a distance away from him. 

_"You better come back, Legolas."_

_Clint cracked a smile before clicking open the locket, which sucked him inside. _

* * *

"Barton," he heard her say, in that demanding voice.

Clint looked up to her, shaking his head quickly when he heard a crash.

The two master assassins dodged it, hearing more screams from behind them. The sounds of guns shooting awoke Clint entirely. Realizing the little time he had, Clint took Natasha by the arms and shook her.

"Listen, you have got to hit me - Clint - on the head, really hard, got it?" he paused, "and please, please be more careful in the future!"

Clint knew he had to get out of here, he couldn't see her. Taking one more glance at her, he took a deep breath and opened the locket once more.

With another crash, Natasha closed her eyes and ducked away. She could smell smoke of fire and hear more screams from behind her.

"Hit you-?"

But when she looked up, Clint had disappeared.

Clenching her teeth, Natasha quickly turned around and entered the inside of the Helicarrier once more. What did he mean by hit him hard on the head? Just... hit him? Natasha smirked a little bit.

Well, he asked for it.

* * *

**I didn't really like the outcome of this chapter, grr. :(  
It was hard to write, for some reason, and it came out so small... **

**thank you for all who faved and followed and reviewed! **

**Please review for an early update!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am the most terrible being in the whole universe. I'm so sorry for not updating until now! I've got a pretty intense chapter, though. I hope you like it! I will most likely update quicker this time. but i've still got my other story. **

**Enjoy!**

**xx**

**-WielderofBlade**

* * *

Clint threw up.

His insides were killing him, gnawing at him and he felt like fire. He had set down the locket for a couple of minutes, so he could catch his own breath, but he hadn't realized how much stress he was in.

A couple of more minutes later, Clint rinsed his mouth out and washed his face. He was in his room in the Helicarrier, but it wasn't in his time. He knew that he had to leave soon, before his past saw him. He wasn't in the mood for that.

He wasn't in the mood for switching time, either. He didn't think that switching would actually make his head spin, his stomach flip, and confuse him. Thor didn't say anything about that. Perhaps he was using it incorrectly?

'No,' thought Clint. 'That's impossible. I did everything Thor told me to do.'

He rolled his shoulders, a habit of his, and rubbed his back. He could feel the bruise that his quiver left for him. Thor told him not to take any weapons with him when he switched time, but he managed to sneak in a knife or two. Although he felt completely naked without his quiver on his back, or his bow in his hand, he was content with a knife.

Clint figured the reason why Thor didn't want him to bring his knife was because he was afraid that Clint would stab himself with it while he was switching, because something like that had happened. Clint guessed Thor didn't know that master assassins usually hid their weapons because Clint's leg had started to bleed.

Clint didn't exactly know how the knife gotten out of it's sheath, but he regretted not listening to Thor. He didn't want to stop in the middle of time and fix himself up.

Cursing at himself, that's exactly what he started to do. His past self was in a two-day mission with Natasha, so he knew that he wouldn't get any distractions what-so-ever.

Clint reached up to the medicine cabinet he hid behind the mirror in his bathroom, and took out a couple of supplies, silently working on his leg.

He couldn't remember the last time he fixed his cuts on his own, because Natasha was usually with him. At least his injuries weren't so severe.

Finishing up his leg, Clint stood up and walked out of the bathroom, making sure to make no noise at all. He grabbed a glass off his desk and started to chug down water. Who knew switching times made you so parched.

Licking his lips, Clint held the locket in his hands, examining it once more. It was quite plain. The outside was gold, with some kind of sign printed on the front. He didn't dare to open it, but when he did he could only see a little bit of what was on the inside. He knew it was silver, and he knew that there was a lot of light. Clint didn't exactly care what kind of locket it was, he just wanted to warn Natasha before she...

Clint shook his head. He couldn't think about it. He wasn't aloud to think about it. It would cause him to go off topic, and it would unbalance his emotions. That wasn't good, not for him. Not right now.

Even though his head felt dizzy, his leg throbbed, and he had just thrown up, Clint raised up the locket and didn't hesitate to open it.

He spun around, landing on his back. Shaking his head vigorously, he looked to his surroundings in confusion.

He was lying on a dirt road, drenched in blood. It wasn't his blood - he was sure of it. He didn't feel any pain. Backing up slowly, Clint closed his eyes and shook his head.

It was dry, dirty, desert-like, and the sun was about to set. But, Clint knew that it wasn't a desert, because he knew a desert when he saw one.

So, where was he?

Kneeling down, he picked up some sand, feeling it with his fingers. It was damp, which was surprising because just a few minutes ago he could've sworn everything looked dry.

Shaking his head once, more, Clint's vision started to blur.

He back up, suddenly scared because losing his vision was his weakness. As he backed up, he felt needles sting to his back and Clint groaned.

"You're imagining all this, you know," he heard from above him. Clint swung his head around, trying to find at least a figure, but all he could see was darkness.

"This isn't actually happening."

Clint grew more and more frightened. What was happening? Was the voice he was hearing even real?

"Clint," Came a woman's voice.

Clint looked up to finally see a sight he was hoping to see - Natasha Romanoff… It seemed that although she was right in front of him, he wasn't actually there. Like mist, fading away every time he blinked. Clint nearly forced himself to keep his eyes open just to see his 'Tasha in front of him, alive and well.

"Natasha…" He whispered just a little bit, but loud enough to hear his own voice. The red-haired assassin kneeled down next to him, gently brushing his hair with her fingers.

"Stop imagining, please… Don't fall, you'll be trapped forever in The Farther…" But just as Natasha kept speaking, the more sleepier Clint got.

He was well aware of the warning that Thor had given him, about The Farther. It was a hole that trapped you in time, the older you get the farther away in time you would go. He had to be certain not to go to sleep, or else the locket he was wearing would act up. Clint tensed and forced his eyes open. He was surrounded by darkness.

"Clint," he heard a man's voice, particularly his brother's. "Man up, you wimp."

"Don't forget your bow, you're hopeless without it," He heard another voice.

"Hold tight, Legolas."

With another blow of pain, Clint groaned, not realizing he was screaming from the beginning.

Then he blanked.

"Son of Barton! Did I not warn you of dozing!"

Reluctantly opening up his eyes, Clint looked over to his left, where Thor was sitting. he licked his lips, getting up and rubbing his leg. It still hurt from last time.

"T-Thor... What happened? Am I back?" He asked.

Surprisingly, Thor shook his head and helped helped Clint up. He was now sitting in a room, and looking over to the calendar he could see it was 2013.

"If I'm still stuck in the past, then how are you here?" Clint asked, squinting his eyes at Thor. He remembered how Thor told him that he wouldn't be able to accompany him into finding Natasha on the right time. Was that a lie?

"It seems when we sent you into the past, the locket opened up not one portal, but two instead. It was certainly not what I was intending to do. Your screams of pain had caught our attention, and we discovered the second portal. Friend Barton, I do not have much time but might I warn you to never go to sleep again. You have agreed to this. I must close the second portal, if I do not do so then anything - anyone - can go through it. Do you understand?" Thor informed Clint.

With this, Clint nodded. Thor got out of his seat, and Clint followed him outside.

A large oval-shaped entrance was what was sitting there just then. It has all sorts of colored fire surrounding it, red, blue, green, violet. Clint assumed that this was the second portal that he accidentally opened. But how did that happen?

"I end my journey here, friend Barton. But I must inform you of the dangers you face further on. Do not forget of what happened over the years, because you will face them again." With that, Thor backed away into the portal, which dissolved him and disappeared once his body was gone.

"2013, right?" Clint muttered, looking down at the locket.

"Don't sleep. Don't interfere. Just relive. Got it," He said, smirking as he opened up the locket once more.


End file.
